


In Spite of What We've Done

by dornessiti



Series: Fall Tumblr GoT Prompts [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Stargazing, Theonsa - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt, hand holding, prompt, sooooo much angst, this honestly wrecked me to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 00:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20805563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dornessiti/pseuds/dornessiti
Summary: Theon Greyjoy returns home to Winterfell and finds more than just the stars waiting for him





	In Spite of What We've Done

**Author's Note:**

> This is now a part of my short tumblr prompt series i'll be doing this fall/winter. you can find me at oathoftheheart , i hope you enjoy!

The cold, familiar wind howls across the endless fields waiting just outside the North Gate. Those on duty are quick to give him a wide berth, and even the greenest boys know well enough by the kraken on his leathers to remain at a distance. It hasn’t been that long since the last time he was here behind these walls; 

The North remembers. 

There’s too many people in the Keep now for it to be truly quiet; too many ghosts as well, their voices waiting for him around every corner. He still falters when entering the main yard, the image of Ser Rodrick and those farm boys branded beneath his eyelids. 

And though he knows he deserves it, deserves to be reminded of what he did for the rest of his days- no matter how much longer that is- this stolen moment of peace still feels precious. 

Theon stands by himself, facing the fields of what used to be his home, and closes his eyes to it all. 

A warm, gloved hand carefully settles on his upper arm, startling him enough that he nearly cries out. But it’s only Sansa. Lovely, strong Sansa with her eyes of steel and her lips that curl into a smile he feels unworthy of receiving. 

“Do you remember the last time we stood here together?” She asks him quietly. 

“ ‘Course, my lady.” Theon whispers. His eyes flicker behind them to the ground where Myranda had fallen; her body twisted and broken until she hadn’t resembled a person at all. 

The only ghost that doesn’t haunt him. 

“I trusted you, you know. After everything that had happened, I trusted you enough to jump.” 

“You shouldn’t say that.” He nearly chokes on the words. “You shouldn’t trust me, not after-not after what I’ve done.”

“But I did- I still do.” Sansa pauses and lifts her face towards the sky, the light from the moon soft and bright on her skin. It almost hurts to look at her. 

Time had hardened the Lady of Winterfell, but beneath it all, she’s still the girl who used to make him cloaks for his nameday. The girl who refused to play in the snow with he and Robb for fear of ruining her pretty dresses, but gave in every time once her brother rubbed snow in her hair, if only so that she could punish him properly with snowballs aimed at his face. She’s still the girl that he foolishly thought he might marry someday, a lifetime ago. 

Theon flinches from the dangerous thought. How foolish had he been that he thought himself deserving of Sansa Stark, even before his betrayal. If Ned were still alive, he’d have already taken his head, along with Ramsay’s- no, Ned Stark would never have married his daughter to a Bolton in the first place. She would have been safe. And it’s all his fault. He’s no Lannister or Frey, but he might as well have sentenced the Starks to death himself. 

As if sensing his dark thoughts, Sansa takes his hand in hers, forcing him to meet her eyes. “This is _our_ home, Theon Greyjoy, we grew up here together. You belong here as much as Jon or I do.” She gives his hand a gentle squeeze. “I trust you to fight for me...to fight for Winterfell.”

He can feel tears welling in his eyes but he hides it as best as he can, turning as she had earlier to look up at the stars. It really is beautiful, the sky of the North. Beautiful and bright and cold, just like it’s Lady. 

She slides her gaze back to the stars as well and they both fall silent for a time, simply breathing it in side-by-side, while above them shines thousands upon thousands of constellations. The Warrior with his bow, Vhager- the dragon of Visenya Targaryen named so for the Old God of Valyria, the twins (Baela and Rhaena), and the fierce direwolf that suddenly reminds him of Sansa’s pet Lady. 

It’s then that Theon realizes she hasn’t yet let go of his hand, and the swooping feeling it causes in his stomach is impossible to ignore. He fights the urge to step away, though it would be better for both of them if he did. Instead, he lets himself stay and drink it all in, if only for a little while longer. 

Theon closes his eyes and feels a wave of calm roll through him unlike anything he’s felt since long before leaving for the Iron Islands. It’s funny, he thinks, that the first time he’s felt safe in years is right before he’s sure to die.

It would be worth it though, dying now to protect her. He would have done it as Reek, would have done it in those frozen woods if it meant keeping the life burning through her veins.

He sighs quietly and has just resigned himself to heading back inside when he feels her lips brush against his cheek. Theon’s eyes flicker open in surprise, but when he turns, Sansa is still solid beside him, not a ghost of his imagination. 

Though he tries to speak, every word getting caught in his throat, she only smiles once more and turns back to the stars as if there’s no other place she’d rather be. He gives up on trying to say anything then, knowing he would only ruin whatever had just happened between them. 

So he sighs again, only much softer this time, and turns back to the sky that now shines a bit brighter than it had before.


End file.
